All My Favorite Colors
by Wedonthavetodance
Summary: "I'm not leaving." An argument. An assurance. An example that, in his heart, he knew Peter couldn't follow. Based off of the song "Cancer" by My Chemical Romance. Rated T for graphic depiction of injury.


_Turn Away_

Peter let out an animalistic cry as his body hit the ground, gasping for breath to sustain his injured body. Blood was exiting his body quickly - too quickly.

_If you could get me a drink of water _

_'Cause my lips are chapped and faded _

If he had been strong enough, if his body had not been slowly being sapped of all ability to function as the stab wound sent his body into survival mode, he would have vomited at the sight of his mangled flesh, covering it with his hands as he tried to stop the bleeding.

_Call my aunt Marie _

_Help her gather all my things_

He knew it was all in vain, but he knew he had to fight because Mr. Stark was on his way and he was screaming and crying. Or maybe that was him. He wasn't sure. Karen was talking to him too, telling him that he needed medical attention, that Mr. Stark was on his way, to keep pressure on his stomach. Maybe Peter was just in shock and hallucinating, but she sounded pretty worried too.

_And bury me in all my favorite colors_

Footsteps approaching reminded him that he still wasn't alone - the enhanced he was fighting was still in the area. It would probably be better for everyone if he just died now anyways. He didn't Mr. Stark to see him so vulnerable and sick.

Crash. Speak of the devil. Guess Peter could let go of the hope that Mr. Stark wouldn't have to see him like this.

Oh well. The pain was starting to fade into a hollow numbness anyways. Maybe he didn't look as bad as he thought.

_My sisters and my brothers still _

_I will not kiss you_

_'Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you_

That stupid kid. That stupid kid.

That stupid brave kid who never took his own mortality into factor when it came to dangerous situations. The stupid kid who had such a pure heart and no concept of self preservation or worth. The stupid kid whom was his responsibility.

The stupid kid laying on the floor, bleeding out.

_Now turn away_

Tony vaguely heard himself calling his name before half-heartedly decimating the villain with a simple demand to FRIDAY. He instinctively pressed on the kid's wound, even though with two hands he still couldn't completely cover the surface area of it. Blood and tissue seeped through his fingers. He chose to ignore it.

_'Cause I'm awful just to see_

_'Cause all my hair's abandoned all my body_

What he couldn't ignore were the inhumane sobs and screams coming from the injured spider. He couldn't ignore the pleas. Pleas for Tony to leave, to not see him in his weakest state. Pleas for Tony to spare himself the pain of watching him die.

Did the kid ever think of himself?

_All my agony_

_Know that I will never marry_

"I'm not leaving." He pressed down harder. Another sob; he didn't know who it was from. "I'm not leaving." An argument. An assurance. An example that, in his heart, he knew Peter couldn't follow.

FRIDAY interrupted that Bruce was almost there. Tony didn't even remember calling him. Maybe he didn't.

"No," Peter begged, his voice softening, his body horrifyingly relaxed. "It doesn't hurt. It's okay. It's almost over-"

_Baby I'm just soggy from the chemo_

_But counting down the days to go_

_It just ain't living_

He was imploring, sobbing, begging to be alone. Which was a lie, because he didn't want to be alone. He wanted to see Mr. Stark, Aunt May, Ned, everyone again. He most certainly did not want to die alone. But he didn't want them to see him. Not now.

Because he could see Mr. Stark and Peter felt bad because he had never seen him look so panicked. He always had something nonchalant and extremely cool to say, but all he kept saying was that he wasn't leaving. Over and over. That's all Peter had heard him say, only pausing to listen to FRIDAY inform him of Mr. Banner's imminent arrival.

So he pleaded one more time, for privacy, for peace, for preservation of his memory. The hole in his side didn't hurt anymore, it was true. It was just a waiting game now.

Mr. Stark's response was as expected.

_And I just hope you know_

_That if you say goodbye today _

_I'd ask you to be true_

"I'm not leaving." Tony wasn't sure how many times he'd said that. Maybe more than he thought he had. It certainly hadn't lost its truth.

But he saw the kid's eyes and he knew. He knew he was ready for the whatever came next. He knew that there, on that dirty, bloodstained, nightmare-inducing floor, he would die. And Tony could see that he was ready. The stupid kid who shouldn't have been ready was ready. The stupid kid.

"It doesn't hurt," the kid gasped out again. "It doesn't. It's okay."

The stupid kid was consoling him. Who was really the stupid one in this situation after all?

Maybe it was the stupid billionaire who'd ignored Peter's texts that warned him where he was going that day. Maybe it was the stupid billionaire who had wasted precious time choking up when he saw Peter's mangled body. Maybe he was the stupid one after all.

_'Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you_

Peter thought he heard Mr. Stark tell Bruce to wait outside, but it sounded tinny and far away. He was starting to get really tired. He knew that that wasn't a good thing.

Feeling Mr. Stark take pressure off of his wound and cradle Peter's body, his crimson soaked hand repetitively stroking his hair, Peter felt his fears start to slip away. He thought of all the people he was leaving behind, but knew that they would be okay. He trusted Tony to take care of Aunt May. Ned had MJ. The Avengers had each other.

And soon, he would have peace.

Among the comforting things Tony whispered to Peter as he slipped away, Peter met his mentor's eyes one last time, hoping he was conveying his thoughts through that one gaze. Peter was pretty confident that he had.

Peter had always imagined that he'd have some cool last words. He and Ned had joked about the funny things they would say. "I left a million dollars in the..." or "hey guys, have you ever seen a dead body?" The incredibly immature part of Peter regretted sacrificing this opportunity, but he found his last words satisfying as Tony held him ever closer.

"Thank you."

_'Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you_.


End file.
